


the city seems louder now

by princelogical



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 07:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princelogical/pseuds/princelogical
Summary: If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it.What happens when you feel like nothing with it? Because Peter is sick of feeling terrified with and without it on. He’s tired of feeling as if he’s still stuck under a building, being crushed by pounds and pounds of concrete. It’s horrible to be afraid. It’s horrible to be controlled by something you can’t quite stop.or.5 times Peter deflects and 1 time he makes progress





	the city seems louder now

**_5._ **

 

School after Homecoming is harder than Peter thinks it should be. The bustle of school, the stress, and the usual comforting presence of friend is strangely numbed by the loud ringing in his ears and rapid beating of his heart. Part of him wonders if maybe the crash, the explosions, and the- the _everything_ has screwed up his hearing. Majorly. But he can’t bring himself to ask anyone; he can’t bring himself to notice sometimes. Or care.

“Peter? Peter!”

Peter looks up. MJ stares at him, squinting with a look that’s the closest to concern he’s ever seen.

“Yeah?” he asks. And it’s pathetic- weak. His voice sounds about to break to his own ears.

“You zoned out. Something up?” She looks like she’s really willing to listen. Like, if Peter were to unload everything, she’d listen. But he can’t unload such a burden on her. He can’t do that to her.

“Nope,” he says. “Everything’s good. Fine- chill. Ya know, like really awesome.” He sticks his thumbs up and then grabs his books. “See you around!” he calls, scampering off like a puppy with its tail tucked between his legs.

 

**_4._ **

 

“Explain _this_.”

Peter looks up from his books and two open bags of Doritos and stares blankly at Ned’s phone two inches from his face. He leans back and blinks it into focus and sees the rubble from where the Vulture had crashed the entire freaking _ceiling over him_.

“You were under this?” Ned asks, gesturing vaguely at the phone. Peter manages to nod. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me?”

 _Because it’s kind dumb. Kinda dumb that every time he wants to talk about it or try to he seizes up in fear and gets sent right back there._ Peter feels so small, hands clenching in the fuzzy fabric of his sweatshirt sleeves. “It- It didn’t seem important?”

Ned whistles lowly. “Man, this is important; it’s mega-huge! Are you nuts? This is-” He takes a deep breath. “How did you survive?”

Peter’s breath catches, because, oh gosh, he could have _died_. Alone and scared. Crushing. Under a stupid heap of concrete. “I don’t know.”

“Wow,” Ned says and goes silent. Peter’s vaguely aware he’s shaking. “Dude, I’d have nightmares for years.”

He doesn’t tell Ned that he does have nightmares. Terrible, horrible and vivid dreams of dying, being crushed and unable to get help. Instead, Peter laughs, choking on saliva. “Sure you would.”

 

**_3._ **

 

“Give me one good reason why I should let you keep this up?” Peter flinches and stares at his shoes. ‘Peter Parker, you answer me this minute!”

“I-” he swallows. “It’s for the good of the city?”

“Why should it be you, Peter? Why should you be the one who shoulders the burden of protecting this city? You are fifteen years old!”

He shrugs. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

May's eyes instantly glaze with tears. “Peter, you shouldn’t have to have this responsibility.”

“But I do,” he whispers. “And I can’t give it up.”

“Could I even stop you?” she asks quietly. A tear slides down her cheek and Peter feels like he’s about to collapse on the ground, crying and panting and begging for his heart to stop racing. But he just stuffs his hands in his pockets and forces his voice not to give out.

“No.” She tosses her hands up in the air and swipes her eyes with her hands that shake like a delicate leaf. “I’m sorry, Aunt May,” he says desperately.

“I believe you,” she says.

“I just can’t- The city needs me.”

“You’re trying to grow up too fast,” she says. “Consider that… maybe you’re not the one who has to take on these big things. Because this stuff, Peter; it’s a big deal.”

“I know,” he says. _His ribs are still aching. His voice is still scratchy from screaming. Blood is still dripping onto the puddle of water in front of him. He’s stuck in a memory he can’t escape._ “I really do.”

 

**_2._ **

 

Assemblies aren’t supposed to be this loud, but they are. Booming voices, students chattering needlessly through the many seats. Ned sits next to him rambling on about… well, something, but Peter can’t quite hear anything but _loud_.

Somewhere amongst his trance Flash comes up yelling, “Sup, Penis Parker?” and Peter still can’t hear anything.

Then he’s being kicked at his ankle and Flash asks, “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

Peter stares up. “Ah, uh- nothing. Nothing. Just- Admiring. Things. Life. Assemblies. I-” Peter gestures around him. Someone in the huge mass of students stomps their foot a little too hard for Peter’s ears. “Yow, it’s loud.”

Flash gives him a well-deserved weirded out expression and then struts off. Peter sinks back against the seat and Ned glances to him.

“Peter, you’ve been doing that a lot.”

“Doing what?”

“Zoning out.”

Peter shrugs. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Well,” Ned pats his shoulder and Peter craves to fall apart right here, right now, but he _can’t_. He never can. “I’m here if you wanna unload that, buddy.”

 

**_1._ **

 

“Peter, can you please rearrange your books? They’re getting cluttered.”

It’s a request from Aunt May and finally one he doesn’t want or need to deny. He heads over the bookshelf and begins digging through it, setting aside the books into a pile next to him. It’s just his luck that the bookshelf is old and held against the wall by a fraying rope, which snaps ten minutes into Peter’s cleaning up. Before Peter can move, the thing smashes against the floor, hitting his feet.

_He’s scared. He’s never been this scared in his entire life. He can’t breathe, he can’t escape, and he’s going to die. He’s nothing without his stupid suit. Tony Stark was right in taking it away from him; he should have listened. Now he’s going to die. Oh God, oh God, he’s going to die-_

“Peter?”

Peter jerks from the wooden fragments smashed on the floor. He looks up to Aunt May in the doorway who holds her glasses in one hand, the other on the doorknob.

“Hey Aunt May.”

“What happened?”

“Shelf fell.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He stands up and makes a point of brushing his jeans. His hands shake, but still as soon as they’re anxiously picking up the rubble. “I’ll need a new one.”

“Of course.”

“I’m fine.”

Aunt May sighs and turns away, looking disappointed. “Of course.” She moves to walk out then pauses at the door. “Peter?”

“Yes.”

“You can let me in your world, you know. I’m here. I promise.” She walks out, head bowed. Peter feels lower than dirt.

 

**_+1._ **

 

_If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it._

What happens when you feel like nothing with it? Because Peter is sick of feeling terrified with and without it on. He’s tired of feeling as if he’s still stuck under a building, being crushed by pounds and pounds of concrete. It’s horrible to be afraid. It’s horrible to be controlled by something you can’t quite stop, no matter how hard you try. It’s horrible when people notice.

“ _What_ was that?”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony sticks a hand out effectively cutting Peter off. “You froze up. I saw.”

Peter crosses his arms. A bridge had been _literally collapsing_ and it had taken the efforts of both Spider-Man and Iron Man to save the day. And they almost hadn’t, because Peter began to remember; Peter started to feel _afraid_.

“Sorry.”

“No- don’t- don’t keep saying that. Explain.” Peter’s lips remain unmoving. “Now.”

“Well, Mr. Stark, Tony- I, see, this- when I fought Vulture.” Peter shrugs. “A building fell on me. Like,” he flaps his hands and mimics something crushing on his top of ribs, “really crushing kind of fell on me. I couldn’t get out.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You failed to mention that part to me.”

“Yeah.” Peter chuckles lamely. “Wasn’t my finest moment.”

“What does this have to do with the bridge then?” Tony asks. “Is this deflection? Is that what’s happening here? Are you deflecting?”

“No,” Peter rushes quickly. “No, I’m not deflecting. But uhm, the bridge was collapsing. And the building had collapsed. And I was like, almost killed. Ya know, dead from that. And. Uhm. I froze up. And I think it’s because I’ve developed some stupid… fear.” Peter feels like he’s a couple pounds lighter from finally spilling his burden out, but he also feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest and skitter off the top of this building.

Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re giving me heart failure, kid,” is all he says.

Peter shrugs. “Sorry?”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” He sighs again. “What happened with Vulture, that won’t happen again. I’m not taking the suit from you. You have backup; you have _help_. Got it?” Peter nods. “And when you need to talk- God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m open. I’ve had my fair share of trauma. Got it?”

Peter nods again. “Yes.” And he thinks he really does get it.

Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God, first fic in this fandom and I am NERVOUS. But heck, I tried. :P
> 
> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
